


Those Who Saw Her

by frankiesin



Series: discontinued works [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, kind of, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Snippets of Amelia Cabot between Fallen to the Top and One Night in Purgatory.(old OC fic)





	Those Who Saw Her

**Chapter 1**

Daphne Arkin was nine years old when she got lost in the woods on a Girl Scout camping trip. She wandered around the woods, calling out for her troop leader, for her friends, and eventually for her mother. No one answered her. She had been forgotten. Daphne sat down on a rock as the sun set around her, and started to cry.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore.” A voice said. Daphne looked up to see a man in nice clothes standing above her. She blinked away her tears. “Are you an angel? Are you going to take me back?”

“I am going to take away your suffering.” The man reached out his hand towards Daphne’s forehead, but he never touched her, because he was stabbed from behind. As blood began pouring from his mouth and the hole in his abdomen, Daphne screamed and jumped up onto her rock. The man fell down, dead, and revealed a teenage girl wielding a long, thin sword. She wiped the sword on her jeans and turned to Daphne. “Sorry you had to see that, but he would have killed you if I didn’t kill him first.”

“What?” Daphne said, her voice high-pitched and terrified. That man hadn’t been doing anything wrong, he had just wanted to help her. This girl was the bad person, because she had killed a man. Daphne moved back, and tripped.

She let out a yelp as she fell backwards, towards the rock’s pointed surface, but she never hit it. The girl caught Daphne by her Girl Scout vest, and kept her from falling. The girl stood Daphne upright and looked her up and down with serious blue-grey eyes. “You’re alright?”

“I’m scared.” Daphne said. “Are you going to kill me too?”

“No, I only kill the bad guys.” She said. She motioned to the dead body behind them. “He’s a bad man, kid. He’s a dark angel; his real job is to keep the other angels from feeling anything, so that they can be loyal, but he was thrown out of Heaven, and he doesn’t understand that people get sad sometimes.”

“What was he going to do to me?” Daphne’s eyes grew wide. She didn’t know that angels were mean; she just thought that they had pretty wings and helped people. That’s what her mother always told her.

“He would have killed you, but I wouldn’t let him do that.” The girl said. She smiled, and she looked nice. But she also looked sad, like she didn’t always save the day. She stood up and reached for Daphne’s hand. “My name’s Amelia, by the way. I help people, and keep the bad monsters from killing the good ones.”

“How do you know if a monster is good or bad?” Daphne asked, and took Amelia’s hand. “And my name is Daphne, by the way. I’m camping with my Girl Scout troop.”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll take you back. I think I know where you’re staying.”

Amelia led Daphne back to her campsite, and not once did Daphne wonder how Amelia knew where she was staying. Daphne just assumed that Amelia was some kind of superwoman, like the characters from her older brother’s comic books, and that Amelia just knew things. Daphne gave Amelia a hug once she was reunited, and then she gave Amelia her courage badge that she had earned a week ago.

Amelia stared down at the piece of fabric. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you’re brave.” Daphne said. “And you fight monsters. Even though you never told me how to tell the difference between a good monster and a bad monster.”

“Oh, yeah.” Amelia said. She pocketed the badge and ran a hand through her light brown hair. She got down on Daphne’s level and placed her elbows on her knees. “It’s hard to tell straight off. Sometimes a bad monster seems good, and sometimes the good monsters look evil. The only way to find out is to trust them a little, but be ready to defend yourself if anything goes sour.”

“Do you know any good monsters?” Daphne asked.

“Yeah, one.” Amelia said, and a smile graced her face for a moment, like she was remembering an old friend that she had lost. Daphne supposed that she was remembering an old friend. Amelia stood back up. “His name was Cas, and he was an angel. He fell from heaven because he was too much of a human. He was good.”

“What happened to him?” Daphne asked, following Amelia to what Daphne supposed was Amelia’s car, parked on the edge of the campsite with scratches in the paint. Amelia opened the car door and threw her bag and the sword into the shotgun seat. She glanced over her shoulder at Daphne as she got into her vehicle. “I don’t know. I helped him get back to his family, and then I went home. I’m assuming nothing bad; they would have contacted me if he wasn’t okay, I suppose.”

Daphne nodded, and Amelia closed the door. As Amelia drove off into the forest, Daphne waved. She knew she’d never see the monster hunter girl again, but she was okay with that. Amelia was Daphne’s superhero, not Batman or Wonderwoman. Just Amelia.

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter 2**

She could not believe that she was doing this. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be using a convention to hide from the FBI, she wouldn’t have believed them. But then again, a year ago, she had been in high school, the angels had still been in heaven, and she’d thought that Scott’s _Supernatural_ theories were nothing more. She knew better now. She couldn’t stay in one place for too long. It had gotten too many people hurt, her staying still. She had to keep moving.

So she did. She pushed through people dressed up as David Tennant and Rose Tyler and even one pretending to be the Impala (why????), excusing herself as she went. She assumed that people would consider her to be just another cosplayer, which was what she needed right then. She couldn’t afford to stick out, even though the blood on her shirt was real and her pulse was racing.

There was a freaking werewolf at a scifi convention, because apparently werewolves enjoyed _Doctor Who_ now. She hated _Doctor Who_ , not because it was a shit show (though Moffat’s writing, from what she remembered of it, wasn’t helping anyone), but because of the fucking werewolf. The same wolf that was dressed up in a TARDIS dress. Same as half this freaking convention, apparently. And the werewolf wasn’t alone, because her job couldn’t be simple. No, the werewolf had dragged along a few friends, two of which had cornered Amelia a few hours ago and were now lying dead in someone’s hotel room. Amelia felt bad, but she didn’t have time to properly hide the bodies. She was, after all, on the run from the FBI.

Because Amelia’s old roommate’s boyfriend was a piece of shit who decided that Amelia was some kind of cult freak and had sacrificed his girlfriend to Satan before leaving town. That was a lie. Amelia’s roommate, the dead girlfriend in question, was the one doing the sacrificing. Amelia had stopped it… by putting a few salt rounds through her skull until black smoke came out and flew away through the air vent.

“Oh my god, your Sam cosplay is so cool!” Someone shouted. Amelia ignored it. The Sam cosplayer in question was probably nowhere near what Sam Winchester actually looked like. Amelia had seen some of the fanart of Sam on Scott’s binders. The artists had gotten him completely wrong.

There was a hand on her arm, small, and Amelia was already reaching for her sidearm before she realised that it was just a random cosplayer. A Sherlock Holmes cosplayer, if Amelia remembered correctly. Amelia had never really gotten into the BBC Sherlock thing. It wasn’t as though she had time to keep up with Netflix anymore. Really.

The cosplayer waved a camera in front of Amelia’s face. “Hey, do you mind taking a picture with my friend and I? She’s the Dean cosplayer over there.”

“Do you have a Cas as well?” Amelia asked automatically. Castiel was her favourite “character,” since he’d saved her life and all. The Sherlock laughed. Actually laughed, like she didn’t realise that Amelia was barely escaping jail at the moment, and also trying to figure out which TARDIS girl was actually a werewolf. The Sherlock shook her head. “Castiel? Ew, no. He ruins the perfection that is Wincest. All he does is get in the way of the brothers… if you know what I mean.”

The Sherlock winked, and Amelia wondered if punching someone was acceptable in any form or fashion. Because, seriously? Incest? Hadn’t a _Supernatural_ book already addressed Sam and Dean’s opinions on that?

Amelia would have to just play along, though. “I know what you mean, but Cas is important.”

“Oh, you’re one of those Cas girls, aren’t you?” Sherlock’s face fell. She was looking at Amelia like Amelia was the scum of the earth or something. If Gwen had been with Amelia, she would have had some snappy retort to give. Scott would have managed to out-geek the Sherlock into embarrassment. All Amelia had was a gun and a warrant out for her arrest.

Amelia took a deep breath, praying that these fans would be less psychotic than some others that she’d met before. Namely, the group of guys that Scott dubbed the Neck Beards. The Neck Beards were awful, and they had come into the comic book shop nearly every Friday. Amelia didn’t miss them.

“I’m not a Cas girl, I just appreciate him as a character.” Amelia said.

The Sherlock rolled her eyes. Actual eye-rollage. Amelia thought she had left that behind in high school, but no, apparently fangirls were just as dramatic. Sherlock turned around and motioned for her Dean friend to come over. This Dean friend had boobs and long hair. And really badly drawn on freckles and fake blood. Amelia arched an eyebrow. “So, are you _Deanna_ , then?”

“Yeah.” The Dean said. “And since you’re not binding, I’m guessing you’re a Samantha?”

If the Dean— _Deanna_ —cosplayer’s friend hadn’t just insulted Cas, Amelia would have felt really good about herself. Finally, someone had recognised that her chest was something other than flat without making themselves seem leering and gross. As it was, Amelia was in a hurry. She nodded rapidly. “Yep. Your friend said you wanted a picture with me?”

“Jamie, she said she liked _Castiel_.” The Sherlock sneered, like Cas’s name was a bad word of something. Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a stream of air. It would have been a scream but she didn’t want anyone here to think that she was possessed. She looked up at the two cosplayers. “Look, you’re allowed to have opinions, negative, positive, whatever, about characters, but don’t just shit all over a character because they ruin your gay fantasies. Cas is a valid character in the series, and if you can’t appreciate what he has to offer, then you won’t be getting a picture.”

And then she was off, searching for the Goddamn werewolf again and ignoring the whispered “what a _bitch_ ” from the two cosplayers behind her. She wasn’t here to have a good time and cry about her feels. She was here to kill a werewolf.

She finally found the werewolf in a panel entitled “Superwholock: A How To Guide.” Amelia had no idea what Superwholock even meant, but she saw the werewolf slip in and so she followed. One of the people standing at the entrance complimented her on her costume, and Amelia thanked them. She could still be polite, so long as no one insulted Cas. He didn’t deserve any of that shit, just because he had arrived three years after the two brothers.

She found the werewolf sitting near the back row and walked over, purposely putting a shy smile on her face as she did. “Can I sit here?”

The werewolf looked up. “Yeah, sure! My name’s Bella, by the way.”

“Like in _Twilight_?” Amelia asked without really thinking. No one with any sense liked _Twilight_ , let alone would admit to being like one of its characters. The _Supernatural_ series was written badly enough, but at least those books had some emotional moments. Bella Swan could be replaced with a cardboard cutout and no one would notice.

The werewolf laughed and shook her head. “Unfortunately.”

Amelia nodded, but didn’t get a chance to introduce herself. Not that it really mattered, as she’d be killing the werewolf in a short period of time, anyway. She’d just sit through this panel and get the werewolf alone afterwards. The second day of the convention was coming to a close anyway. Most people would be heading to their hotel rooms soon, and Amelia could just go up with the werewolf and kill her before she even got into her room for the night.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the panel, Amelia wished that she could just kill all the Superwholocks. They were ridiculous, thinking that time traveling and solving crimes and _being a freaking monster hunter_ would be fun. Amelia had only done one of those things (though she might be able to put solving crimes on the list as well), and it was not fun. It was not something to brag about.

No, it was downright dangerous, and not something Amelia would wish on her enemies, let alone her friends.

She mentioned that to Bella, who, surprisingly enough, agreed. Amelia asked her why she’d gone to the panel if she wasn’t a Superwholock herself, and Bella gave her a sad smile. “My friends are kind of like those people, you know. They’re all arrogant, and they think that they’re superior to everyone else just because they _know things_. It’s dumb, really, but I went there for the nostalgia.”

“You mean, you used to be like them?” Amelia wasn’t sure if she meant Superwholocks or normal werewolves.

Bella nodded. “Yeah. I stopped hanging around with them, and they didn’t like it. You know, they actually followed me here, to this con, but I haven’t seen them for a while, so maybe they finally figured out that I didn’t want anything to do with them.”

Amelia stopped in her tracks. Bella noticed that Amelia had paused, and so she turned around and tilted her head. She looked like a dog. “Hey, you alright?”

Instead of answering verbally, Amelia just pulled out the stake she had used on the other werewolves. It was still covered in blood. She hadn’t had much time to clean it off. Bella’s eyes widened in recognition, and she started to back away, raising her hands above her head. A few cosplayers walked by, not even noticing what was going on. They probably just thought that it was a role-playing session or something. For once, Amelia was grateful for their ignorance. She took the stake and slowly lowered it to the ground, not taking her eyes off of Bella. “I’m a hunter, Bella. A real one. But if you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about… then maybe I don’t need to kill you.”

“I haven’t killed anyone in over six months, I swear.” She looked like she was going to cry. Amelia stayed crouched on the ground with one hand still on the stake, just in case. Bella blinked back her tears. “I know it was my pack who killed those people. I told them to stop, to go back, but they didn’t. They were taunting me with the meat… but I never took any of it, I swear. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to read comic books and maybe meet David Tennant.”

“I trust you.” Amelia said, and she put the stake away. She stood up and walked over to Bella, keeping a safe enough distance. “I know that not all monsters are bad, and not all humans are good.”

“So, you’ll let me go?”

Amelia shrugged. “I guess. Just… tell any remaining members of your old pack not to mess with you. After all, you now know how to summon the doctor and Sherlock Holmes.”

Bella laughed. Amelia smiled. Behind them, the Sherlock cosplayer from earlier was glaring, because _how dare_ someone make fun of her precious fandoms.


End file.
